


Connections: Zutara Week 2016

by summerplaylist



Series: Fandom Weeks [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: 500 Word Drabbles, F/M, Romance, Zutara Week, Zutara Week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-07 23:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7733989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerplaylist/pseuds/summerplaylist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katara finally looked at him, and for the first time in a long time, Zuko was sure their love would never die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dragons

Dragons were red. At least, that was what Katara had always believed. For as long as she could remember, dragons were red like fire and they preyed on the weak.

Dragons were a symbol of the Fire Nation—one of power and destruction, of fear and terror. Red was not a good color; it wasn’t soft and pretty, like the blues of the Southern Water Tribe. And it wasn’t the color of home—of the white snow and clear ice, of the cobalt skies and gray clouds.

But with time, dragons began to mean something else for her. They reminded her not of darkness, but of light—not of hatred, but of love.

And, most of all, they reminded her of Zuko. Red became the color of their passion, of the threads of fate that had brought them together. Red was no longer a color to be feared, but one to be cherished.

Dragons were blue. At least, that was what Zuko had always believed. They were the color of the mask he kept from childhood, the one he saved as a reminder of days gone by. Whenever he wore that mask and became the Blue Spirit—he felt so strong, like nothing could hurt him again.

Dragons were a symbol of the Fire Nation—of the homeland he loved so dearly despite all of its faults.

Dragons were the color of home—of blue skies and fluffy white clouds, vacations on the beach and the color of his most bittersweet memories.

But with time, dragons began to mean something else for him. They reminded him not of home, but of Katara. Every time he thought of dragons, he thought of Katara’s power and the confidence she covered herself with like a second skin. 

Dragons made him think of how she had managed to survive every obstacle that came her way. How she had struggled through everything, had lost so much, but had still emerged victorious.

Katara was ferocious like a dragon, dangerous and lethal. But she was also steady and poised, graceful and kind.

And her eyes—they were blue. Everything she wore was blue and white; the colors of the Water Tribe, of the place she called home. She wore blue proudly; she wore it with love. 

Dragons were blue and so were Katara. Her water bending, her strength—her everything. Everything about her was tinged with shades of blue.

On the surface, Katara and Zuko seemed like an odd, mismatched couple. They clashed and they argued and always had differing opinions.

But they understood the most important, the most vital parts of one another. They understood loss and they understood fear. They understood pride and they understood determination.

It was beautiful how they still connected and came full circle. How they were littered with connections; how they were two halves of one whole. 

They brought out the worst in each other; they brought out the best in each other.

And most of all, they loved each other.


	2. Reincarnation

When Zuko was young, he hoped he would be reincarnated as a turtle duck. Turtle ducks didn't have demanding fathers or missing mothers. And they most definitely didn't have evil sisters.

When Zuko was a little older, when his life turned upside down, he hoped he'd never be reincarnated at all. His only purpose in life was to search for the Avatar. Without that purpose, Zuko was nothing. He had no interests, no wants, and the world would surely be a better place without him in it.

But now Zuko was an adult. And he hoped that when he was reincarnated, the threads of fate would lead him to Katara. Fate had never been very kind to him, but maybe it would finally show him mercy and give him Katara no matter what life he was living.

In Zuko's mind, all roads led to Katara. Even though he hadn't realized it at first, even though it took him years to make a move, all roads led to her. Every moment in his life had been spent waiting for her, even though he hadn't realized it.

“I don't know,” Katara said. She bit her lip, drawing it through her teeth. Zuko would have kissed her if she'd allowed him, would have kissed all of her pain away—the pain that he had caused.

“Forgive me,” Zuko said. “Please. I didn't mean it—”

“You hurt me.” Katara's voice was so small, but there was power behind it. That power that was always there—it was one of the reasons Zuko loved her so much, why she was one of the most important and valuable people in his life.

He wished he had half of that power. If he did, he would have never been a disappointment, not to anyone, and especially not to her.

“I can't do this anymore,” she said, breaking down into tears. Zuko had seen her cry before, but not like this. Never like this. “I can't believe you would do this to me.”

“I'm sorry,” Zuko repeated. There was nothing else to say. Nothing that would make any of this any better. “If I could go back, I wouldn't have even spoken to her.”

“But you did,” Katara said. “Why didn't you think of me?”

Zuko didn't have the answer. He should have. But Katara was the farthest thing from his mind in that moment—if she had been, he would have never given that other girl more than a thought at all.

Katara stormed away, and Zuko knew it was over between them. Maybe forever—maybe for always.

The fates had never been very kind to Zuko. Life had been too good for him lately—of course he would find a way to mess it up.

When it became obvious Katara wasn't coming back, Zuko went back to hoping he would be reincarnated as a turtle duck. They didn't have to worry about Avatars or running the Fire Nation. And they never had to worry about love.


	3. Memories

Katara missed him, but she couldn't figure out why. It wasn't because of any logical reason, nothing that would make sense when spoken out loud. And it wasn't because he was gone, or because he was with someone else, or because she hadn't seen him in nearly a year now.

It must have been the clockwork, the passage of time. Every morning brought about another day that would be spent without him. She missed him, but it wasn't because of that. It _couldn't_ be because of that. It wasn't because she missed his easy smile, his careless words, his promises of love. If it was for those things and those things alone, maybe she had never loved him at all.

Every day, Katara changed a little bit more, became a little bit closer to the person she wanted to be, to the person she was _meant_ to be. If he magically returned and said hurting her was a mistake, she wasn't sure if she would forgive him—not anymore.

But she missed him more than anything. A part of her wished he would come back, that she would see him one last time. She wanted to talk to him and she wanted him to listen. She wanted him and him alone. And she wanted him back in her life.

But being without him wasn't the worst thing, not anymore. Time had a way of doing that. It loved to make people fade and to make memories disappear. The memories Katara once held so dear weren't so dear anymore. The memories of what he said and the things he did were beginning to grow fuzzy. She used to replay their love story every night before she went to sleep so she'd never forget it; but now so much time had passed that it was becoming almost impossible to do.

The memories, Katara decided, were the worst. They were why she missed him so much. It must have been the fading, trailing memories of their love. It must have been that, whenever she heard his name, a cold feeling of sadness would wash over her.

Whenever she began brewing tea, or picked up a scroll to study, or practiced her bending, she would remember one of his jokes or one of his stories. The people around her grew tired of hearing about him; they grew tired of hearing his name. But they didn't understand how difficult it was to keep those memories back, from letting them spill out and be said before they were lost forever.

And it was terrible—just terrible—how nothing was safe. Nothing at all. The lightning gave her chills, the thunder made her want to scream. All of it amounted to this deep sadness—something she was afraid would never go away.

Katara missed him, but she couldn't figure out why. It wasn't because he was gone, happy with somebody else. If it was for that and that alone, maybe she had never loved him at all.


	4. Lilac

Katara used to believe that love could save the world. She believed Zuko would never leave her behind. They had fought so hard, so long—they deserved their happy ending in a world that had broken their hearts one too many times.

Zuko's favorite flower was the lilac. They littered the gardens in the springtime, illuminating the entire palace with their fragrance. Zuko liked to put them in Katara's hair, the purple so bright and soft against her dark skin, tangled up in her curls.

After awhile, heartbreak isn't so bad. The smell of lilac won't always hurt so much. And after awhile, Katara was sure she would be able to look at them without feeling the need to cry.

But in the beginning, heartbreak is pain. It is a pain that is red and deep and cruel. A heart that wasn't used to being so vulnerable will cry out; it will feel like it is suffocating, like it was stomped on, like it never meant anything at all.

Then there is the sadness, cold and sharp and blue. Sadness that is unexplainable; it isn't grief, just a sadness, an inexplicable sadness, that will flare up at the worst of times. So many reasons will present themselves, but none of them will mean anything. Because he isn't coming back, it's obvious now, but everything is so _cold_ and _sharp_ and _blue._

Maybe lilac represented something else for Katara. It wasn't pain or sadness, it was longing—wistful thinking at its finest. Or maybe it was a dream. Soft, purple petals whirled around her mind, reminding her of something that was forever lost. A piece of herself that would never be recovered, a piece of herself she would never find no matter how hard she looked for it.

Before the heart can heal, before it can turn away from love altogether—there will be anger. The anger comes after months of peace. It hits the heart all at once. The anger is clear, but it is tinged with every moment that ever mattered, every moment that ever meant anything at all.

Katara couldn't help but wonder if Zuko still loved lilac; she wondered if he put them in somebody else's hair. The anger stemmed from that place—the thought that he had moved on so completely and entirely that lilac was no longer associated with her and her alone.

The little things will beg for attention, but none of them mean anything. Love doesn't make sense, not anymore. The pain will return, then there will be sadness—the longing—then there will be anger before there is nothing at all.

After awhile, heartbreak isn't so bad. Someday, the heart will become vulnerable once more. And when it does, it won't have to worry about breaking ever again.

But Katara wasn't to that point. Heartbreak was still there, and she still wished Zuko was with her once more, to put lilac flowers in her hair and paint her skin with their fragrance.


	5. Fever

Katara did not want to wear a blue dress to Zuko's wedding. She wanted to wear a dress that matched how she felt about the whole thing. She wanted to wear red—the color of a dragon's scales or the color of the flames the Fire Nation so blindly adored.

Or better yet, she didn't want to go to the wedding at all.

“But it will be fun,” Suki promised. She laid the dress out on Katara's bed, smoothing out the wrinkles. “And it would only look bad if you didn't make an appearance.”

“I'm not going,” Katara said, crossing her arms to both Suki and the dress. “It would only look bad if I _did_ make an appearance.”

Suki gave Katara a knowing smile. It was the same smile she gave to Sokka when he was being difficult, and that only ignited the fire in Katara's chest all the more.

Katara was getting ready to argue when there was a knock at the door. It was loud and annoying and _was it really necessary to knock so many times?_

“What is it?” Katara snapped. Her words were sharp and cutting, just the way she liked. They made her feel better, made her mind feel less feverish and confused—less like something that could crumble at any moment.

At least, those words made her feel better before the door opened to reveal Zuko himself.

Katara felt the floor open up beneath her, ready to swallow her whole. But she recovered soon enough—and as always, she began to talk when it shouldn't have been possible due to all of the emotions swirling in her head.

“What are you doing in Ba Sing Se?” she asked. Because apparently that was the most important question. It wasn't _hey, where the hell is your soon-to-be wife?_

Zuko blinked. Seemed to reassess the situation. He wore the Fire Nation robes Katara hated and had reverted to tying his hair back in that stupid ponytail.

Maybe Katara should also be reassessing the situation. What did she see in him exactly? Because right now, she couldn't really think of anything besides him being Zuko. Loving him blindly wasn't good enough in this moment. It just _wasn't_.

“What are you doing in Ba Sing Se?” Zuko asked in return. “Shouldn't you be in the South Pole with Aang or something?”

Suki laughed nervously. She edged out of the room, and in a flash, she was gone.

Katara's cheeks heated. “Shouldn't you be in the Fire Nation with your girlfriend or something?”

It was Zuko's turn for his cheeks to heat. He bit his lip, and Katara wanted to kiss his embarrassment away so badly. But loving him blindly wasn't good enough at the moment. It just _wasn't._

“I've missed you,” Zuko said. He seemed to mean it. At one time, Katara would have never believed he was capable of lying about anything.

But, obviously, things could change. And Katara wasn't sure if she believed him—not anymore.


	6. Coffee

“I thought Aang would be here,” Zuko said, looking around the room as if Aang would materialize out of thin air. “We were supposed to talk about…” His eyes landed on the dress that was currently occupying Katara's bed. "Dragons.”

Katara scoffed. “Dragons?”

“Yeah. I needed to talk to him about that.” Zuko shifted on his feet. “But since he's not here, I guess I'll get going, then.”

“Dragons?” Katara repeated. She stormed over to her bed, picking up the dress and flinging it at Zuko. “How in the world does _this_ dress make you think of dragons?”

Zuko stepped back, letting the dress fall to the floor. “Because it's blue, I guess.”

Katara forced herself not to snap back at him. She was tired of arguing. But it wasn't fair of him to just show up like this—unannounced—when she wasn't prepared.

“Tell me why you really wanted to speak to Aang,” Katara suggested, sounding more than a little bitter. “Maybe I can help you.”

Zuko shook his head. “I don't think you can.”

The silence stretched between them. Katara felt close to snapping. “Tell me why you're here,” she said. “It's been too long for you to say there isn't a particular reason.”

“I told you. I wanted to talk with Aang.”

“You're lying.”

Zuko sighed. He looked around the room again, but Katara knew he wasn't really seeing it. “I don't know if you want to hear the truth.”

“Try me.”

“What if I told you the wedding was off?”

Katara disliked the way her heart jumped. She disliked the rising feeling of hope, so she tamped it down. “I would say that doesn't mean much of anything.”

“What if I told you I wanted to be with you?”

The hope rose up in her again, bright and strong. “I would say that doesn't mean much of anything.” Katara focused on keeping her voice from breaking, from betraying any emotion. “And I would say that isn't fair to the other girl.”

Zuko stepped towards her. He stood so close that Katara could feel his fiery hot skin, could smell his cologne. He didn't say anything for a long time, then: “Can I kiss you?”

Katara stepped back. “Of course not.”

“Alright.” Zuko bit his lip. “That's understandable.”

“But you can most definitely take me out for coffee.” Katara smiled hesitantly, pleased with herself for making that suggestion. “And we can see where it goes from there. How about tonight?”

Zuko laughed a little. And it was such a lovely sound that some of Katara's unease melted away. “It's a deal. I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

“But we still need to talk about things,” Katara said, smile disappearing with those words. “It's been so long—you can't expect me to forgive you just like that.”

“I don't.”

“You're lying again.” Katara focused on the blue dress on the floor, the dress that reminded him of _dragons._

“I'm sorry,” Zuko said. “I'll do better. I promise.”


	7. Candles

In his wildest dreams, Zuko would have never expected himself to be here. This position was unique to him. He had never been in the middle-ground with someone; he had always been above or below.

But in this place—in love—he was in the middle. Whatever Katara said and whatever Zuko said would hold the same weight; and whatever the outcome of this meeting, that would determine whether or not their relationship had a future.

Katara sat across from him, stirring sugar and cream into her coffee. Uncle Iroh had set a candle on their table, probably in the vain hope to illicit romantic feelings upon them.

The candle smelled like caramel and it reminded Zuko of the nights they had once spent together. It reminded him of his mistakes, his greatest regrets.

He wasn't about to thank Uncle Iroh for that addition to the table anytime soon; all it did was make the atmosphere even worse, made the look in Katara's eyes even sadder.

She looked so achingly, endearingly tired. The flame of the candle cast shadows across her face, completing the picture of exhaustion.

“I love you,” she said, “but that isn't enough.”

“This year has been awful without you,” Zuko said, because it was true. “Everyday I wondered how you were.”

Katara added more sugar to her coffee; at one time, Zuko would have teased her, would have told her she was adding too much.

But he didn't have that place in her life, not anymore. Teasing was somewhere beyond them, somewhere out of reach.

“I love you,” Katara repeated, “but is that enough for you?”

Zuko held back his immediate response, biting his tongue. Of course it was enough for him—more than enough. But there was a hidden agenda behind her words, some type of response she was searching for that Zuko wasn't sure he had.

Because outside of Zuko's personal feelings, the truth was that love would never be enough. There had to be more than just that to sustain a relationship.

Love was an emotion that was too difficult to pin down. It was like the flame of a candle, always flickering, always dying. Sometimes it would burn strong, but in the end, it would always burn out and fade.

But Zuko didn't want to think it like that. Not now, not with Katara so close to him. Love was eternal. It wasn't a candle; it was everything good that had ever existed in the world.

Love was a dragon, fiery and strong. Love was the connections that stretched between them.

Love was everything.

Zuko had been silent too long. Katara was staring at the candle. She still hadn't taken a drink of her coffee; her eyes had a distant, faraway look to them—effectively breaking Zuko's heart.

“It's enough,” Zuko said, and he smiled when Katara did the same. She finally looked at him, and for the first time in a long time, Zuko was sure their love would never die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo-hoo! It's over. Thank you to everyone who has read and left a kudos! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated! <3


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